What Really Matters
by sleepyzucchini
Summary: A stolen car leads Luke to a stolen night with Lorelai. And maybe to a lot more than that.


**Author's Notes:** This story begins at the very end of "A Family Matter," and you can assume that all events leading up to it happened just like on the show. The few days afterwards, however, will be somewhat different.

* * *

><p><strong>A Soft Place to Fall<strong>

Every chair had been turned upside down on the tables. The floor had been swept ― twice. The coffeemaker was filled and ready for the morning. All I had left to do was turn out the light and head upstairs.

Instead I was standing at the door, my arms crossed tightly against my chest, starring out at the 'stolen' car currently serving as a bedroom for my nephew.

Stupid kid. Stupid punk, good-for-nothing kid. Ungrateful little twerp. If he froze out there it'd serve him right.

The steam from my anger was keeping me quite toasty. If it was a little frosty out there in the cold, cruel world ― Well, that was just too damn bad now, wasn't it? Stupid punk kid. Thought he could do whatever he wanted and never have to face any consequences. Just like his mother.

I gave out a sanctimonious snort and was chilled by how much I sounded like Taylor Doose. That ugly thought gave me the push I needed to kill the lights and turn my back on the little family drama parked across from my diner. My feet stomped on each stair leading up to my apartment and it felt really good to slam the door behind me.

Once everything had stopped reverberating from the door slam it was totally silent in my world. All I could hear was my own breathing and Lorelai's voice in my head. Telling me she didn't want me to be upset. Telling me she didn't want me to have to deal with a frozen carcass in the morning.

I was zipping up my old green jacket and pulling on my gloves before I even registered what I doing.

It felt like I flew across the street. My fist pounded against the iced-over window in a most satisfactory way.

"Go away." I could hear Jess's voice, even though it was muffled from where he was curled up in the back seat.

My fist continued to knock against the glass. If only I was knocking some sense into his head instead.

Movement. He sat up and rolled down the window. "What?" he barked out at me.

"I'm spending the night at Nicole's."

"Thanks for the update," he said in his customary sneering way.

"The hidden key is still in the same place," I told him, sounding very much like I was instructing him to eat rat poison. "Now, you can stay out here and freeze to death if you want or you can go inside, I don't really give a damn, it makes no difference to me." I turned and walked off, forcing myself not to look back.

"Fine!" I heard him say at my retreating back. I heard the squeak of the old window being rolled up.

I reached my truck and climbed inside, still refusing to even glance backwards. I fired up the truck and pulled away, my gaze remaining firmly forward.

But I couldn't do it. I had to make sure.

Slowly I drove around the square. I pulled over and idled by the curb. I watched as Jess exited the car and hurried across the street, his shoulders hunched against the cold. I watched until he found the key and let himself into the diner that had once been his home.

I watched until the light came on upstairs. Then I finally put the truck in gear and pulled away.

It wasn't long before I realized that I now had another problem. Jess had a warm place to sleep, but I didn't. Now I might be the one sleeping out in the street.

It was true; I could go to Nicole's. My jaw clenched at the idle thought. Why did I always say that? Nicole's. It wasn't supposed to be just Nicole's place. It was my place too. We'd decided to find a place together. We _had_ moved in. It _was_ our place.

But yet I could never manage to say that. Truthfully, I couldn't even think it. I tried to imagine standing by the diner's door and telling Caesar, "I'm heading home to Litchfield now." A shiver ran down my spine and I turned up the blower in the old truck, hoping some more heat would help to unlock the frozen block of frustration constantly lodged in my chest.

Knocking unexpectedly at Nicole's door ― scratch that, _our_ door ― would probably only ignite another argument, anyway. She could never just be happy that I was there. She always wanted more. It was never enough that I'd showed up. She wanted a future. She wanted a full-time commitment. She wanted a husband, not a rude guest.

She wanted a hell of a lot more than what I was able to provide.

I sighed and blinked at a stop sign. How in the world had my life gotten so complicated? Car-stealing nephews and lying sisters and a wife that I could barely admit I had? How the hell had that happened?

Too bad the old Independence Inn had burned down, I thought, continuing to drive aimlessly through the town. I could have gotten a room for the night there. Too bad I'd turned into such a grouchy, mean-spirited loner that I didn't have one friend willing to take me in for the night, I further chided myself.

I realized that the truck had come to a stop. I looked up from my self-recrimination and saw that I was parked in front of Lorelai's.

I didn't want to admit how right that felt. I didn't even want to acknowledge the idea that I had driven to her house deliberately.

Instead I told myself that talking over the situation with Lorelai would be the best thing I could do. She'd sleep better knowing that Jess wasn't going to freeze to death. And hey, if she offered me her couch for the night, problem solved, right?

My hand was already eagerly knocking on the door before I realized that the downstairs was mostly dark.

Rory answered the door in a plush pink robe and huge furry slippers that looked like baby seals. She had a book clutched under her arm, as usual, but the expression on her face when she saw me wasn't that of the little girl I still kept in my heart. Her face twisted in pain and fear, and I realized all at once that it's not the amount of years lived that turns people into adults. It's heartache.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was wobbling with fear. "What's happened to him?"

"Nothing!" I said at once, kicking myself for scaring her like this. "He's fine, Rory. In fact, he's settling into my apartment even as we speak. He's probably already helping himself to everything edible in the refrigerator. He's fine," I said once more, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

Her head tilted upwards and she took in a big breath of relief. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment while she composed herself. She swallowed and rearranged the book under her arm, her fingers pressing against the cut edges of the pages.

"Oh." She looked at me then, and the shy little girl I used to know was back. "Thanks for telling me." She frowned, looking me over. "Is that why you're here?"

"No." Now I was the one feeling uncomfortable. "I wanted to talk to your mom for a minute. Do you think I could?"

"Oh, sure." She stood back and waved me inside. "You know Mom's always ready to talk."

I stood in the living room, waiting for her to close the door and join me. I'd never seen their house this quiet and dark.

"Go on up," she said casually. Her arm swung up at the stairs while she started to shuffle back to her room.

"Up!" My voice, scandalized, had shot up into an unmanly shrillness. I cleared my throat before protesting further. "I can't do that!"

Rory turned back to look at me, that typical Gilmore grin splitting her mouth. "Why not?" she asked me, all slyness and fake innocence.

"Because…If she's…I can't…" My arms were flailing around as I tried desperately to find some reasons that didn't include the words 'in bed.'

"It's fine," Rory said with airy unconcern. "You know the way, and Mom certainly won't care."

I folded my arms and looked sternly at Rory. "No matter how unconventional your mom is, I doubt that she's expecting company up there."

Rory's face lit up and I knew she was preparing to hit me with some sort of variation on the dirty comment her mother surely would have made. "You know what I mean!" I snapped, pointing at her and glaring.

She snickered but hopped up a few steps on the stairs. "Hey, Mom!" she yelled. "Are you decent?"

"I haven't been decent since, oh ― maybe 1982," Lorelai yelled back.

"Is it OK if Luke comes up?" Rory asked.

"Did he bring food?"

Rory turned and looked at me again. "No," she yelled back at her mom. "He's sadly empty-handed."

There was a long pause. "Fine," Lorelai grumbled. "He can come up anyway. But next time I expect room service!"

"See? It's fine." Rory came down the steps and I reluctantly started up. My feet stopped about four steps up.

"This isn't right," I muttered, my head hanging down.

I heard Rory step up behind me. "Hey, it's perfectly OK," she said, and her voice had lost the teasing tone. "Mom's just up there reading or something. There's nothing wrong with you going up to see her, Luke. Besides, everyone knows you guys don't need a chaperone."

I should have let well enough alone but I just couldn't. "And why's that?" I asked, irritated.

She shrugged. "Because if you were going to try anything with Mom, it would've happened a long time ago. We all know that you going up to see her in her room is completely safe." She grinned and patted my arm like I was an old man before shuffling off in her oversized slippers.

Gritting my teeth at the way they both made light of my masculinity, I stomped up the rest of the stairs and knocked on her door.

"Entrez-vous!" her voice rang out.

They might forget that I was a guy, with manly urges and desires, but I did not. At that moment, with my fingers curled around the doorknob, getting ready to step into where Lorelai Gilmore was waiting for me in her bed, my body let me know in a most definitive manner that there was still quite a bit of hot blood coursing through my veins.

"Well, are you coming or not?" Lorelai complained.

I bit my lip at her for-once unintended dirty comment and opened the door.

A thousand fantasies died.

Lorelai was in bed all right, with layers of blankets and quilts obscuring even the slightest outline of her body under the covers. She was sitting up, pillows at her back and a book in her lap. The glasses she sometimes wore were on her nose and a thick fleecy jacket was snugly buttoned around her. I think it was safe to say it was the most clothing I'd ever seen on her.

"Hi," I said feebly, blinking away images of red teddies and see-through lacy things. "Sorry to bother you so late."

"No problem." She laid the book on the bedside table, took off her glasses and put them on top of the book. She tugged her hair back behind her ears and I registered how dim the light was. I wondered how she'd been able to read at all.

"I just wanted you to know that I let Jess in the apartment. I didn't want you to worry about him." I stuck my hands awkwardly into my jacket pockets and looked around the room, mainly so I wouldn't have to keep looking at her. In bed. Even if she was all covered up.

She beamed at me. "That's was sweet of you, Luke. You'll feel better knowing he's OK."

"Yeah." I was staring over at the old sewing machine in the corner of the room and wondering how she kept track of what clothing was in the huge pile stacked on top of it. "I told Rory too. I'm sorry about that ― I shouldn't have mentioned him to her."

"Don't worry about Rory," Lorelai insisted, a little harshly. "Like I said, she's good. She can handle it."

I killed the sarcastic comment I wanted to make. I wanted to inform Lorelai that her daughter was still hurting over Jess. But then I realized that Lorelai probably already knew that better than I did. She just didn't want to discuss it with me. Or maybe even admit it to herself.

"Well, he's got a warm place to stay for tonight, anyway. Guess he knew the right sucker to hit up again."

"Luke, don't." Her voice had a sharp edge to it. "Goodness knows I'm not in the Jess corner, but even I'm glad that he's got you as a failsafe. This is more about your big-heartedness than it is his ability to take advantage of it."

I made a noise of disgust and started to pace around the room. "Don't make up lies about me, Lorelai. My heart's as small and cold as that green guy in the Christmas special."

"The Grinch?" she asked, tentatively, but I was on a roll by then.

"Maybe if I had a heart like a normal person, I would have been around my nephew before he was set in his punk-ass ways. Maybe I would have had a chance to help him grow up. Maybe he wouldn't have been such a complete stranger to me. Maybe if I had a heart my sister would come to see me even if she didn't need something. Maybe if I had a heart I wouldn't be driving around in the dark, trying to think of somebody that might be glad to see me―" I choked off my words, but it was too late. She was staring at me; those gorgeous big eyes all round with pity.

Before she could speak I set off again around the room. "It's freezing up here!" I complained. "How can you stand it? No wonder you're all bundled up!" I knelt down by the register under the window.

"Luke," she said, really quietly for Lorelai.

"Lorelai! For cryin' out loud!" I pulled off a glove and tugged at the lever on the vent. "Your register is closed! No wonder you're freezing up here."

"Luke," she said again, still very quietly, and there was something about the quietness of it that made me stop and look over at her. She'd crawled out from under the covers and was kneeling at the end of the bed. I could see she had on sweatpants and fuzzy blue socks. She was rubbing her hands, but I wasn't sure if it was from nerves or the cold. "I know the register's closed," she stated. "I'm the one who closed it."

"But why would you…" My lecture petered out as the pieces fit together. The darkness of the house. Rationing the heat. Fewer trips to the diner.

And here I thought she was avoiding me after the fiasco with the bells.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I sounded hurt and I couldn't help it.

"Because things are still OK." She shrugged and gave me a rueful smile. "I'm just being cautious, that's all. There's really nothing to tell yet. It's not because I think you have a small heart," she hastened to assure me, grinning for real.

"You know I'd help you with anything." The words were true but not necessarily ones I'd normally admit out loud to her.

"I do know." Those spectacular eyes were beaming now. "That's how I know what a big heart you have."

To avoid looking at her I turned back and snapped the vent shut again.

"Take off your shoes," she ordered me, flouncing back under the covers.

"What?" I stared down at my boots stupidly. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you can't get into bed with your shoes on," she said in the most matter-of-fact manner.

"If you think I'm― I'm not!" I blustered around.

"Yes, you are." She turned back the covers beside her and patted the bed in invitation. "You've already said it's freezing out there. You came here to talk, and it's too cold to talk out there. Come to bed and get warm."

The devil on my shoulder was cackling and rubbing his hands with glee. "I can't do that!" My voice was horrified and with good reason. I was terrified ― and incredibly excited ― to think what might happen if the devil won.

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Of course you can. It's not like we haven't already slept together anyway. Remember the night after the Inn burned down? This is no different," she insisted.

"This is totally different," I muttered, remembering my night of tossing and turning on the couch while trying to ignore the fact that she was in my bed.

She sighed dramatically. "What do you want me to do? Hang a sheet between us? Run over to Colonial Williamsburg and snatch up a bundling board? Sign a document saying I promise not to fondle your hot bod while you sleep?"

I continued to stand and glare at her, trying my best to wrestle that devil off my shoulder.

She sighed again, tiredly this time. "Luke, I promise you it's safe. You came here as my friend, and I'm offering you refuge as a friend. Come on. There is nothing wrong with this. Truly." Once more she gently patted the sheet. "Sookie'd sleep with me," she added, a flair of mischievousness sparkling in her eyes.

"Stop that," I ordered as she started to giggle. But I sat down on the edge of the bed and untied my boots. I knew this was probably going to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I ignored the devil's victory dance and took off my coat and gloves. Then, God help me, I climbed under the covers in Lorelai's bed.

"This is going to be iso/i much fun," she said, leaning over to tuck me in. When she lay back down she cuddled herself against me.

I zoomed to the edge of the bed, trying to keep distance between us. "Stop that!" I warned her again. The devil scoffed at the desperation in my voice.

"Ooh," she said, in fine mocking tone. "I didn't know I was that irresistible. Maybe I'd better find that bundling board for real."

"I _am_ married, you know," I shot at her.

She rolled completely over to her side and laid flat on her back. She held herself completely still in a way that told me my words had hit home. "I know," she finally said, very quietly. After a moment that had both of us holding our breath, she reached up and pulled the chain on the bedside lamp.

The darkness helped. The strained edges faded away. It was easier to breathe and relax. It was easier to pretend that this was some weird sort of sleepover. Easier to pretend that there was nothing wrong or in any way lewd about being in her bed.

"Explain to me about the car," she said after a long session of silence.

"What?"

"Jess's car. How did it turn up again?"

My stocking feet rubbed nervously back and forth between the sheets. I _was_ feeling warmer. "I stole Jess's car," I admitted.

Lorelai sat bolt upright, taking the warming covers with her. "Hey!" I complained, pulling the blankets back.

"_You_ stole Jess's car?" It almost sounded like she admired me.

I closed my eyes tight. "Yes. I stole the kid's car. He paid for it and worked to keep it running and was actually proud of the piece of crap, and I stole it and hid it away from him."

She lay back down on her side, and I could feel her watching me in the dark. "I'm guessing you had a reason, and it wasn't because you wanted to emulate Grand Theft Auto."

"He wasn't going to school," I said, feeling that helplessness from when I first found out washing over me again. "He was lying to me and working too much and cutting classes. I didn't know what else to do."

"Right. Obviously, steal the car. That'll fix it."

"Look, I had to do something, didn't I? He wouldn't listen to me! At least without a car he'd have to stick in town and go to school. It was the only plan I could think of at the time."

She sighed and patted at where she thought my shoulder was. "You've had the car stashed somewhere this whole time?"

"Yeah. Until today when I happened to mention it to my sister. She tells Jess and boom! The little punk comes and steals the car right out from under me."

The bedding rustled as Lorelai stretched. "Technically I don't think it's stealing when it's his car, Luke."

"Maybe not. But don't you see how wrong it is? My sister comes to town, not to see me or even check on what went wrong with her son, but because she wants to show off in front of all of her old high school pals. She's excited to come back because she's finally got her life together. And she can't wait to tell Jess about the car, probably because she thinks that'll make him soften up to her. Then Jess slithers into town and takes the car, without even tryin' to talk to me or see me or let me know that he's OK. He just came for the car. That's it," I said flatly.

Lorelai's hand found mine without any problem at all, and she squeezed it reassuringly. "Jess probably didn't know how to even start to talk to you about all of this, Luke. Neither of you are very good with the communication thing. He probably thought that the easiest thing would be to slip into town and grab the car. I doubt that he meant to hurt you more by doing that."

"He knew," I said disagreeably. But I let her keep holding my hand.

"Look, I don't know anything at all about siblings, so I won't even try to give you advice about Liz. But I do have a kid. And when they get to this stage of life, this stage where they're practically grown, there's not much else you can do. They don't have to take your advice anymore. They can make their own decisions. And even good kids that have been raised by adoring parents can make the wrong decisions. I won't try to sugarcoat it. It hurts and it fills you with despair when it happens. You just have to trust that eventually the things you've said to them and the things you've done for them will stick in their brains and someday they'll be in your corner again. You did the best you could with Jess. I know you did, and someday he'll prove it to you."

"You'll never have to worry about Rory making the wrong decisions," I offered, wanting to pay her back for her confidence in me.

"You know we've already had some ups and downs, and I suspect there will be more. I just hope I've given her a strong enough foundation to weather them through. You did good with Jess, Luke."

I started to automatically protest but she shushed me. "You did," she said emphatically. "Even if he doesn't know it yet."

Her faith in me was nice to hear. It was comforting to think that it might all turn out OK in the end. The bed was warm, her voice was soothing, and I began to relax.

That was when she started to shimmy over on her side of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hot." I heard clothing being pulled off and dropped over the side of the bed.

"How can you be hot? You were freezing just a few minutes ago."

"You are toasty. I should have had you come over and sleep with me weeks ago. You're better than an electric blanket, my friend."

"Ah, geez." But I couldn't deny that I was plenty warm too. After a few minutes I got up and took off my jeans and flannel shirt. My socks, too. Lorelai couldn't stop giggling. And humming 'The Stripper.'

"If you say 'Take it off, take it all off, Baby,' I'm out of here," I warned her, hopping back into bed.

"You're no fun."

"You knew that when you asked me up here," I reminded her. I waited a minute. "So tell me about your money problems."

"Just because you're sleeping with me doesn't mean we're intimate enough to discuss finances," she said primly.

I ignored her. "How bad is it?"

"It's not bad at all." I could make out her hand zipping through the air over her head. "I'm doing fine."

"Lorelai, come on. Tell me the truth."

She took a deep breath and folded her hands over the blanket. "Well, it's not that bad," she hedged.

"But it's not good?" I ventured.

"It's…" I saw her hand wavering back and forth. "Things are a little bit…iffy. It's just that we're getting down to the end and so many things still need to be done. Suddenly there's just this long, long line of 'amounts to be paid' and very little to do the paying with. But I'm fine," she claimed.

I knew she was waiting for me to argue, but I didn't. Instead I reached over and took her hand, squeezing it the way she had mine only minutes before.

"I'm not going to pry," I told her. "But there's one thing I want you to promise. Will you do that, Lorelai?"

"Depends on what it is."

"If it gets to the point where you really need help ― if it gets to the point where it looks like you can't do it on your own ― promise me you'll come to me first. Give me the chance to help you. Will you do that?"

I kept on holding her hand. I tried to remember the last time I'd just held the hand of someone I truly cared about. I rubbed my thumb in a circle on her palm.

"It's hard for me to ask for help," she said weakly.

"I know. Believe me, I know. But it would mean a lot to me if I'd be the one you'd ask. Will you promise to come to me, Lorelai?"

"If I need to."

"If you need to," I agreed.

"I promise," she finally said, and squeezed my hand. "Thanks, Luke."

We laid there for awhile in companionable silence. I didn't release her hand and she made no move to take it back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered eventually to the ceiling. "I'm sorry about all of the things I said about you and Nicole. I know it really is none of my business."

I dropped her hand instantly and rolled to my side, away from her. "It's OK. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I moved."

"But you didn't―" I heard her mouth snap closed. "I understand," she mumbled instead, and rolled to her other side as well. "Goodnight, Roomie."

"Goodnight." And even though I was in a strange room, in a strange bed, beside a woman I had no right to be with, I drifted off to sleep with no worries whatsoever.

* * *

><p>I partially awoke at some indiscriminate early hour, in the midst of one those lust-drenched dreams I occasionally had about Lorelai. And this one was a doozy.<p>

She was flat on her stomach and I was pressed up against her side, harder than I thought it was ever possible to be. I pulled her even closer to me, biting my lip as I tortured myself by rubbing that hardness against her thigh. My hand was under her pajama top, caressing her bare back. I then rubbed her neck, up under her hair, then slid my hand down all the way to her waist. My thumb nudged under the elastic of her sweatpants, running along the skin at the waistband. I rubbed upwards again, massaging her back from side to side. I stretched my fingers and felt the beginning swell of her breast on her right side. I glided over to the other side and felt her matching contour there.

Lorelai was breathing erratically and occasionally moaning. She pushed her absolutely amazing ass up off the mattress a few inches, towards my roaming hand.

I obliged her by scooping underneath her sweatpants, where I instantly found out she didn't have on any underwear. And I found out that it _was_ possible to be harder.

I went a little crazy. I cupped her bottom and stroked her. I'd never felt anything so smooth and soft and sexy. I couldn't touch her enough. My thumb traced down over her division and I couldn't stop myself from pushing it further down between her legs. A slick wetness welcomed me as I explored.

She gasped and turned her head. She captured me with her arm around my neck, pulling me close. She kissed me as thoroughly as she could.

And that's when I realized it wasn't a dream.

I used my weight and pushed her over onto her back. One yank from my hand caused the buttons of her top to slip out of the well-worn buttonholes and her breasts were bare, although the light was so dim I could hardly see. I could feel, though. I could feel her stiff nipples under my fingers, practically begging me for my mouth. Again, I gave her what she wanted. She responded by wrapping her legs around me and rubbing her dampness against me.

Self-preservation made me focus as much as possible on making her nipples hard and slippery. I concentrated on the way they felt against my tongue as I lapped at them in turn. I needed to think about something besides the throbbing ache between my legs if I wanted to last any time at all.

The need to taste her overwhelmed me. I needed to know her as intimately as possible.

I went up to my knees, pulling off my t-shirt. I stripped the sweatpants down off her legs, mourning a little bit that I wasn't taking the time to worship the sight of them as I should. I cupped her, rubbing slightly with the heel of my hand. She arched her back and rubbed back against me, starting to open herself to me.

That wasn't what I wanted, though. I didn't want it to be that easy.

I put my hands on her hips and pressed them closed. I straddled her legs and ducked my head down to her. I licked over the line separating her lower lips, slowly, and she thrashed about. I licked again, a little deeper this time. She tried to wrench away from me, but I was stronger. I licked again and again, each time allowing her to part a little bit more, until my tongue was grazing her swollen bundle of pleasure.

Then I went to town, sucking and licking, letting my tongue probe her opening.

Her body was vibrating under mine, captured and controlled. I raised my eyes and saw that she was fisting the sheets on either side of her, her mouth clamped shut in an effort to not cry out. I realized suddenly that she was trying to be quiet because Rory was asleep directly under us. I also realized that the door wasn't locked, and that Rory could easily walk in on us at any time. And to show you how far gone I was, I didn't care. I didn't care if Rory or half the town would walk in at that moment and see what I was doing to her mother.

I was getting what I wanted and I didn't care.

What I wanted was more. The urge to bury myself in her was stronger than anything I'd ever experienced before.

_You need to protect her_. The warning thundered in my fevered head.

_Yes, yes I do._ I completely agreed. I remembered the bedside table and started to move up to reach it, kissing her stomach and her breasts again along the way.

I angled my body over hers, reaching for the drawer in the table. She saw her advantage and tugged down my boxers. Her hand wrapped around me and she squeezed me and stroked me without mercy. Obviously she wanted to explore, too.

"God, stop," I begged, even though I was thrusting myself into her hand. Her thumb rubbed circles around my head and I thought I'd explode. Frantically I made the dive for the drawer.

"What're you doin'?" she whispered, her voice slurred like she was drunk.

I stopped my quest just long enough to kiss her. "Protection," I then whispered back.

I don't know how she did it, but just like that I was alone in the bed. There was nothing under me but the twisted sheets. I stared down at the emptiness for several seconds, trying to grasp what had just happened.

I looked over my shoulder and she was standing at the foot of the bed, tying a robe around her. My boxers fell to my feet as I got out of bed and I kicked them away. I moved over to her, very naked, and rather proud of just how naked I was. The look on her face seemed to suggest she was impressed with the nakedness, too.

But then she gave herself a shake. Her mouth set and she pulled at the ends of her belt. "This isn't happening," she said firmly.

"Lorelai, don't do this." I grasped her chin and raised her face to kiss her. She didn't protest but melted into me instead. I put one arm behind her back for support and dipped her, using my other arm to pull apart her robe. It fell open, baring her to me again. My mouth moved down her neck to her breast. My hand slid over her stomach and found home again. I circled over her and she whimpered, and then gasped when I experimentally pushed my finger a little way inside.

Her eyes flew opened and she shoved at my shoulders forcefully. I let go and she stumbled away about a foot, turning her back to me while she once again tied shut her robe.

"This is not happening," she repeated when she faced me again. "You need to leave. Now."

"You want to stop this?' I motioned between us, completely incredulous.

"We are stopping this," she insisted. "For one thing, I don't have protection up here. Do you want to know why? Because I don't do this up here, that's why! I don't do stuff like this in the house! There might be an old condom in my purse downstairs, but that's it!"

I looked over at the door. "Well, I could―"

"Luke, no!" I'd never heard such a loud, emphatic whisper. "We are _not_ doing this!"

There's no excuse for the way I kept pressuring her, but I wasn't exactly thinking with my brain. "That's OK," I said quickly. "We don't have to do it like that." I stepped forward, reaching for her. "Let me…Let me use my fingers then. My mouth."

I dropped to my knees but she practically leaped backwards, further away from me. "We are not doing this at all, do you hear me?"

"Are you kidding?" I rocked back, sitting on my heels, and stared at her in disbelief. "Why are you stopping this?"

"Because I know you, that's why!" Her fingers were nervously playing with the ends of her belt. She backed up a few more steps. "If I let you do this, you'd eventually hate me. You'd never forgive me."

I scrambled up to my feet and tried to find enough blood to send up to my brain to dispute her words. "What is wrong with you? You know I'd never hate you."

She was nodding rapidly. "You would, Luke, you would. Every time you'd look at me, you'd remember you cheated on Nicole with me. You'd hate me, Luke. I know you would. You'd never forgive me, and I couldn't stand that."

She'd knocked the breath out of me and I swayed in front of her, feeling a little dizzy. I'd completely forgotten Nicole. I'd completely forgotten that I was a married man. The cold of the room began to creep up my legs. "That's not…" I started to say.

"And that's not the worst part," Lorelai continued, hugging herself as she started to shiver. "You'd hate yourself. You'd never forgive yourself. And there's no way I'm letting that happen."

My nakedness no longer seemed like something to be proud of. I was cold and mortified that I'd tried to take advantage of a friend. My pal the devil gave me a friendly punch in the gut.

"You need to get dressed," Lorelai urged me. "Get dressed and get out of here. Please. Now. Because as you know I'm not exactly known for my self-restraint. And you're sort of rapidly draining away the tiny little bit I have at my disposal right now."

I'd already grabbed my boxers and was searching for socks. I chanced a look over at her and I could see a wry smile on her face, even though she had a finger anxiously twisting a lock of her hair. I began to hope that maybe we could put this behind us after all. I threw my clothes on, not caring about the finer points like buttons and belts.

Lorelai led me down the creaky staircase. When we reached the living room I sat down on the edge of the couch to put my boots back on.

The couch moved.

I jumped back up and tried to stifle the "What the hell?" that tore out of me.

Lorelai rushed over and carefully peeled back the afghan covering the short lump on the sofa. "It's Lane," she whispered, not even sounding surprised.

"What's she doing here?" I demanded, as Lorelai tugged me towards the front door.

"I don't know," she said tiredly. "No one told me my house had turned into the Gilmore Shelter for the Homeless tonight."

I leaned against the wall in the entry and managed to get my boots on. Lorelai was very carefully not looking at me.

Normally I was not one to initiate conversations about aborted lovemaking attempts ― or any lovemaking at all, truthfully ― but I couldn't go away with so many things unsaid between us.

I zipped up my coat and pulled out my gloves. "Are we…" I shook my head a little bit and cleared my throat. "Are we going to be OK? I mean, about what happened. Um, what didn't happen. I mean, are we still going to be…"

"Oh, sure!" Lorelai's subdued voice had the false brightness in it that she used when she promised Taylor she'd do something she had no intention of doing. "We're fine!"

I swallowed hard. "Lorelai," I croaked out, shaking my head.

She sighed. "OK, this was big deal. There's no way to get around that. And it's probably going to take a while to get back to normal. But we'll be OK, Luke. Eventually."

I looked at the door but then turned back to her. "Will you be in the diner today?"

To her credit she told the truth. "No," she said, her chin lifting as she said it. I started to protest but she cut me off. "I can't. There's no way. I'd come into the diner and see you and it'd be all over my face, Luke. One look at me and everyone could tell I've seen you naked. And a fine sight it was, too," she added wistfully, her eyes snaking southward.

"I want to make this right between us," I pleaded.

"It will be. Just give it some time. Some distance."

I should have just walked out the door, but for some reason I was filled with belligerence. "I'm not ever going to say I'm sorry about it, though," I warned her.

There wasn't much light in the entry, but there was enough for me to see her face. For the first time since the nakedness her eyes met mine. She looked at me straight on for several seconds, studying me. Finally she smiled.

"I'm not sorry either," she said tenderly.

There didn't seem to be anything else to say after that. I nodded once and reached for the door.

Her soft hand was suddenly on my back, stopping me. When I turned her hands went to either side of my face. She went up on her tiptoes and kissed me the way she had the first time up in her room, open-mouthed and needy, giving me title to every bit of her. I pulled her as close to me as I possibly could, pushing Lane and Rory out of my mind and wondering just where she _did_ keep her purse down here.

Lorelai was once again the one who ended it. "Go," she requested breathlessly, pointing at the door. "Remember that self-restraint? It's down to just about a drop. So go. Please." But she was still smiling at me, although her lips were trembling slightly.

I pushed her hair back behind one ear and leaned my forehead against hers for one last, brief touch. Just to acknowledge what had happened between us this night. Then I opened the door and walked out.

The icy air slapped me in the face. The door to the pickup squeaked in protest when I forced it open. I climbed inside and sat there for a moment, wondering where to go next.

My eyes focused on the clouded clock on the dash. I was shocked to see it was time to start opening the diner.

Well. At least I now had someplace to go.

I fired up the truck and started back to the lonely place I called home.


End file.
